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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497463">The Errant Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy'>robotboy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Finnpoe Week 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Regency, FinnPoeWeek20, Love Letters, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:00:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘This morning, I received a most perplexing letter,’ Finn announces.</p><p>Poe hopes the blood does not drain visibly from his face. Hopefully he is silhouetted by the bay window. ‘A letter?’</p><p>‘Indeed,’ Finn raises his eyebrows. ‘From a secret admirer, if you would believe it.’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Poe Dameron/Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Finnpoe Week 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>FinnPoe Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">A blast of cold air heralds Finn’s return to the manor. On any other day, Poe would be at his side in a heartbeat, greeting him with a short embrace and asking for news of his outing. Today, he lingers in the drawing room, straightening his cuffs. He regrets that he did not take an outing of his own, despite the rain drumming with grim determination on the windows.</p><p class="p1">‘Poe!’ Finn’s voice rings off the polished wood of the entry hall. ‘Are you about?’</p><p class="p1">Nothing for it. Poe strides to the hall, adopting an expression that gives every appearance of having not heard Finn’s arrival.</p><p class="p1">‘Finn,’ he smiles, and nothing about that expression is forced. ‘Did the weather catch you?’</p><p class="p1">‘Not too badly,’ Finn hands his rain-spattered coat to the butler, with a quick: ‘Thank you.’</p><p class="p1">The butler takes his cue to depart, and Finn removes his gloves.</p><p class="p1">‘I took a ride through the north woods, to clear my head,’ he explains to Poe.</p><p class="p1">‘What troubles you?’ Poe asks.</p><p class="p1">Finn pats his pockets, frowning. Poe offers his handkerchief and Finn takes it with a grateful nod. Even as he dabs the rain from his face, there’s still a windswept look about him, and it makes Poe’s heart flutter.</p><p class="p1">‘Come,’ Finn returns the handkerchief to Poe, then he takes Poe’s elbow. ‘It’s best discussed in the upper office.’</p><p class="p1">Poe doesn’t need to be led around his own residence, but he would never refuse Finn’s touch. The upper office is modest, furthest down the hall and least convenient for the staff to reach. A nook in the bay window overlooks the grounds. Perfect for private matters.</p><p class="p1">Finn steers Poe to the nook, but cannot cease pacing himself. He checks the door is firmly shut, and lights a few candles. He circles the mahogany desk before leaning on it, facing Poe.</p><p class="p1">‘I’m very glad to be lodging at your estate,’ Finn starts. ‘I’m not sure what I would do without your counsel.’</p><p class="p1">‘But of course,’ Poe shakes his head, smiling. Finn is always prompt with gratitude, and Poe accepts knowing well that any lord would be honoured to offer his house the decorated Commander. ‘I have not yet given you counsel, and you know well enough that I would go quite mad staying here without a friend.’</p><p class="p1"><em>A friend: </em>he is generous with the word, since it must suffice for a great many feelings Poe cannot speak aloud.</p><p class="p1">‘This morning, I received a most perplexing letter,’ Finn announces.</p><p class="p1">Poe hopes the blood does not drain visibly from his face. Hopefully he is silhouetted by the bay window. ‘A letter?’</p><p class="p1">‘Indeed,’ Finn raises his eyebrows. ‘From a secret admirer, if you would believe it.’</p><p class="p1">Poe would indeed believe it. He hooks two fingers into his cravat, subtly loosening it.</p><p class="p1">‘I cannot deny that its contents are flattering,’ Finn reaches into his vest, producing an envelope very familiar to Poe. He has spent many nights holding it beside the hearth, moments from tossing it into the flames. He now rather wishes he had.</p><p class="p1">‘I hoped you might assist me,’ Finn continues. ‘In deducing the identity of its author.’</p><p class="p1">Poe nods as if his skull were jiggling atop his spine. Within him wars the danger of his secret, and the impulse to be helpful to Finn in every possible capacity.</p><p class="p1">‘Do you have any guesses?’ Poe keeps his tone lightly curious. If he did not know perfectly well the contents of the letter, he would indeed be fascinated at unraveling a mystery with Finn. He would be concealing jealousy, rather than guilt.</p><p class="p1">‘The details are rich enough that it must be a lady of our acquaintance,’ Finn explains.</p><p class="p1">Poe’s heart turns to lead. Of course, this had been his exact intention: to obscure any hint that might betray the sex of the author. He tames his errant breath of disappointment and enquires: ‘Do you hope for a particular lady?’</p><p class="p1">Finn’s brow pinches slightly, the answer seeming to escape him. He unfolds the letter, momentarily lost in its contents. His lips form silent shapes around the words—Poe’s words.</p><p class="p1">‘I wondered at first if it was Miss Jannah,’ Finn muses.</p><p class="p1">‘Mm?’ Poe tilts his head, the very picture of curiosity. ‘She holds you in high regard.’</p><p class="p1">Finn’s mouth contorts around an ironic smile. ‘You have mentioned.’</p><p class="p1">‘What deterred you from that conclusion?’ Poe asks. He clamps one hand over the other, to stop himself from fidgeting.</p><p class="p1">‘We have corresponded before,’ Finn launches off the desk to rummage through a drawer. He makes a short noise of triumph, flourishing another letter. He holds both, eyes darting between them. His lower lip purses as he analyses the two pieces.</p><p class="p1">‘This isn’t in Jannah’s hand,’ Finn declares. ‘I’m sure of it.’</p><p class="p1">‘No?’ Poe cocks his head. Then Finn picks up both letters and hands them to Poe.</p><p class="p1">‘What do you think?’ he asks.</p><p class="p1">Poe’s face burns. His eyes rush over the anonymous letter, over every telltale turn of phrase and scratch of his quill. Jannah’s paper is a different texture, her writing neat and free-flowing. She is effusive in her affection for Finn, and Poe can tell from a glance that her private professions to Finn contain none of the anguished passion in the former letter.</p><p class="p1">‘I suppose she could conceal her style,’ Poe hands her letter back. He lets himself be shocked by the other letter, to feel the full horror of its candour in the light of day. ‘It seems wise, when divulging sentiments that run as deep as these.’</p><p class="p1">Finn pulls a face, thoughtful. ‘It seems a more likely conclusion that it wasn’t Miss Jannah at all.’</p><p class="p1">‘I suppose you’re right,’ Poe concedes. He flicks his head, so his curls aren’t in his eyes. Finn smirks at the motion. ‘Have you other candidates?’</p><p class="p1">Finn, instead of remaining at the desk, comes to sit beside Poe so they may evaluate the text together. His thigh presses alongside Poe’s, still warm from the morning ride.</p><p class="p1">‘I thought the masculine penmanship could be Miss Rey,’ Finn chuckles.</p><p class="p1">‘It is patently undeniable that she adores you,’ Poe agrees. ‘Though I cannot remark upon her penmanship.’</p><p class="p1">Finn is nearly inseparable from the young ward of the Skywalker family. Poe, at Finn’s behest, had quelled many rumours of their attachment, the possibility of which depended largely on her securing the considerable Organa inheritance over the Princess’ scoundrel of a son. As a war hero, Finn is positioned to offer Rey prestige, if she could bring the prosperity. Poe supposes this to be the only reason Finn has continued to avoid an official engagement.</p><p class="p1">‘But you see, in this paragraph,’ Finn points, fingertip brushing Poe’s thumb. ‘She mentions how handsome I look when I’m riding. I’m quite certain she has never seen me ride.’</p><p class="p1">‘No?’ Poe’s pulse increases. He’d rather been depending on that. ‘Surely, at some point, she might have spotted you.’</p><p class="p1">‘You forget, she spent last winter at Lord Skywalker’s estate,’ Finn shakes his head. ‘I had that hunting accident before she returned.’</p><p class="p1">‘Indeed,’ Poe recalls.</p><p class="p1">‘You ought to remember,’ Finn smiles. ‘You barely left my side, so determined were you to have me out of your house again.’</p><p class="p1">‘Not <em>out of my house,’</em> Poe demurs. ‘On your feet again. Nothing could have pleased me more.’</p><p class="p1">Omitted, in the letter, is how Poe cherished every day spent in Finn’s chambers, holding him up as he gingerly exercised the torn muscle. It was late summer before Finn was finally strong enough to ride again, and Rey must have returned to the city at that point.</p><p class="p1">‘You are easily pleased,’ Finn teases, elbowing him lightly.</p><p class="p1">‘Am I?’ Poe raises an eyebrow. ‘Every time Miss Rey visits, she complains about my sour disposition.’</p><p class="p1">‘Easily pleased, easily soured,’ Finn sighs. ‘You wear your heart on your sleeve, my friend.’</p><p class="p1">Poe chuckles, ducking his chin to his chest. The paper crumples slightly in his hand, and he carefully loosens his grip.</p><p class="p1">‘There’s a candidate you haven’t considered,’ he murmurs.</p><p class="p1">Finn shuffles closer, reading over Poe’s shoulder. His arm rests behind Poe’s waist, and Poe’s eyes glaze over at the distraction of Finn’s firm torso pressed all along his side.</p><p class="p1">‘Oh?’ Finn’s voice lilts. ‘Who could it be?’</p><p class="p1">Poe holds his breath for a moment before he can release it. The heat of Finn’s breath tickles the skin of his neck.</p><p class="p1">‘Miss Rose Tico,’ Poe suggests.</p><p class="p1">‘No, no,’ Finn exhales in frustration. ‘Read this part.’</p><p class="p1">He shuffles to the second page, bracketing Poe’s hands with his own. Finn’s thumb outlines the section in question, holding it up to the light.</p><p class="p1">And then, Finn reads in a steady voice:</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘I harbour desire for you the likes of which I should feel for no man. My esteem for you is the only thing which runs deeper. In deference to both sentiments, I have contented myself with an anonymous confession. I do so in the hope that I may preserve the friendship you have so generously gifted me. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I pray you do not see this as a betrayal of your trust: I cherish you so dearly that I cannot hold back my feelings entirely, though I know that anything more would be forbidden. Please do not consider me a coward for hiding behind this letter.’</em>
</p><p class="p1">Tears well at the corners of Poe’s eyes. He was a fool, to write this. He was a fool a hundred times over, not casting it into the fire and letting it turn to safe, simple ash, to be swept away.</p><p class="p1">The rain has become a downpour, rushing in waves against the windowpanes.</p><p class="p1">‘You’ve said it yourself,’ Finn murmurs. ‘Marrying a Tico sister would be a smart match for me.’</p><p class="p1">‘It would,’ Poe hears his own voice as if removed, as if his spirit had wilted and seeped through a knot in the floorboards. ‘I have said that.’</p><p class="p1">‘An engagement with Miss Rose is anything <em>but </em>forbidden,’ Finn argues. ‘Her parents are ready to name our children.’</p><p class="p1">‘Well, if she’s a good match…’ Poe trails off.</p><p class="p1">‘But Poe, don’t you see?’ Finn grits his teeth. ‘How can I think of marrying, knowing it would break the heart of this admirer?’</p><p class="p1">‘Perhaps,’ Poe speaks hoarsely. ‘She would be happy to know you are happy.’</p><p class="p1">‘That might be the case,’ Finn concedes. ‘If I believed I could be truly happy—truly <em>myself—</em>with any of them.’</p><p class="p1">‘Could you not?’ Poe asks. ‘You speak of these ladies as your closest friends.’</p><p class="p1">‘That’s the trouble, Finn shakes his head. ‘They <em>are </em>my friends, and any man should be grateful to marry a friend.’</p><p class="p1">Poe snorts, under his breath, at the irony.</p><p class="p1">‘But that was before I saw this,’ Finn holds the paper tightly, as if he can wring the truth out of it. ‘This author <em>knows</em> me. The way it’s written, Poe, they know me like nobody has <em>ever </em>known me—you being the exception, of course.’</p><p class="p1">‘Of course,’ Poe echoes.</p><p class="p1">‘I sense with such certainty that it is not one of my eligible acquaintances,’ Finn insists. ‘As such, to marry one of them would be… a disappointment. A disservice. I would always know I could be loved this way, by someone else.’</p><p class="p1">‘You <em>are </em>loved this way,’ Poe fixes his gaze on the letter, anchoring it as the source of the feelings Finn describes. ‘That is already apparent.’</p><p class="p1">‘So it would seem,’ Finn’s brow furrows, and he stares again at the letter. His thumb brushes over the phrase Poe had almost omitted: <em>I am yours, in secret, and even in secret from you.</em></p><p class="p1">‘You have forgotten someone,’ Poe murmurs. He bites the inside of his cheek, startling at the tang of blood in his mouth.</p><p class="p1">‘I have?’ Finn speaks softly, his voice almost swallowed by the storm. Poe glances at his face, lit in silver by the overcast sky, gold by the candlelight. It is everything Poe had written of: Finn’s striking beauty and inquiring wit, overwhelming and irresistible.</p><p class="p1">‘Miss Jessika Pava?’ Poe croaks.</p><p class="p1">Finn barks out a laugh. ‘Miss Pava? This author calls me a <em>friend, </em>many times over, and Miss Pava hardly notices my existence.’</p><p class="p1">Poe winces at his own clumsiness, but Finn is adequately distracted.</p><p class="p1">‘It’s <em>you </em>she admires, Poe,’ Finn grins. ‘I don’t know why you rebuff her so resoundingly.’</p><p class="p1">Poe shrugs, as if it is equally a mystery to himself. ‘I am rather committed to the life of a bachelor, my friend.’</p><p class="p1">Finn looks at him, his dark eyes twinkling with curiosity.</p><p class="p1">‘Then I suppose it shall remain a mystery,’ he sighs, patting Poe’s thigh as he stands up. He folds the letter carefully and tucks it back into his the inner pocket of his vest. Close to his heart. ‘Shall I call for tea?’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The rain continues through a restless night, and into the next day. Finn cancels his plans to visit Miss Rey and consult her about the letter, much to Poe’s relief. They withdraw to the drawing room, Finn plucking at the harpsichord while Poe adopts a casual sprawl on the chaise, holding a book. His eyes skitter over the same sentence he’s been attempting for an hour. Finn’s presence fills the room to bursting, even as the melody he plays is soft and hesitant.</p><p class="p1">Finn’s tune meanders off the sheet, a quiet and questioning improvisation. Poe hears only the hushed shifting of ivory, the keys barely depressed, drowned out by the crackling fire. Finn exhales, but he doesn’t speak, and finally Poe snaps his book shut.</p><p class="p1">‘Can I tempt you with a game of chess?’ he asks.</p><p class="p1">Finn blinks out of his reverie, and a smile dawns on his face. ‘You can indeed.’</p><p class="p1">‘Excellent,’ Poe ducks his head. ‘I’ll fetch the set.’</p><p class="p1">Finn gives him a nod, and begins arranging the armchairs by the fire.</p><p class="p1">Poe searches the library, but the chess set isn’t on its usual shelf. He frowns, trying to recall their last game. They had played in Finn’s chambers, to catch the evening light.</p><p class="p1">Poe checks the door is unlocked, and slips into the room. While it may be his house, it still feels an intrusion, since Finn has been his guest these past six months. But he remembers that the chess set was left at Finn’s desk when they had heard the dinner bell during their last game, moments after Finn had him in checkmate.</p><p class="p1">Finn’s table is covered in papers: Poe shakes his head at the uncharacteristic messiness. Finn has left a wooden box open, letters spilling out of it.</p><p class="p1">Poe does not mean to pry. But his eye catches on a turn of phrase, <em>how I cherish you, </em>and he recognises the script. He recognises it because it’s his.</p><p class="p1">It’s one of the letters he sent Finn during the war: the date confirms it.</p><p class="p1">It had been easier, camped in the thick forests of France, to write candidly. Poe’s neck arches as he glances over the words. He had quite forgotten how unguarded his sentiments had been, stoked by the heat of battle and the fear that either of them might not survive to see home again. He had waxed lyrical on how dearly he missed their companionship, espousing the way Finn’s bravery bolstered his own when it felt sure to fail. Other letters, ranging from their earliest acquaintance and subsequent separations, have been left unfolded. Their purpose and origin are laid bare, and with them, Poe’s heart. The string that had once bound them together trails loose from the box. In each missive, Poe has been patently, overtly fond, and the damnable thing was, in all those years he crossed every T in precisely the same fashion.</p><p class="p1">He had not thought to mask his penmanship. He had not thought Finn would keep their letters, let alone produce them for comparison. He had not realised how repetitive his phrasing was. A tear spills over his cheek, startling him, and he snuffs the candle out quickly.</p><p class="p1">He strides away, the chess set forgotten. Finn knows.</p><p class="p1">The front door is flung back by the wind when he turns the handle. He doesn’t stop to don his coat or gloves. He cannot be in this house a moment longer. He <em>will not </em>be in this house much longer, if his predilections come to light. The Dameron name would be in disgrace, and Finn? Finn’s social standing depends greatly on the good graces of more established families. Finn might not expose him, for fear of association, and thus Poe has placed him at terrible risk. Their friendship will dissolve into a stalemate.</p><p class="p1">The rain beats down on Poe’s face as he flees.</p><p class="p1">And all Finn had done was practice the harpsichord. Perhaps he had been weighing his choices, considering whether a closer affiliation with the Skywalkers or the Ticos could redeem him from his close acquaintance with Poe.</p><p class="p1">Men are hanged for this. Poe cannot breathe: it is as if the noose were already around his neck. He tugs the knot from his cravat, and the wind whips it free of his throat. He gasps through the pounding rain, sweeping his hair back. His hands ball into fists, tugging at his scalp. He lets out a cry of frustration, and the sound is lost in the downpour.</p><p class="p1">All he can muster the will to care about is losing Finn. But Finn was lost the moment Poe wrote that letter. He was lost the day Poe met him, because that was when Poe knew he would would never love another as he loved Finn.</p><p class="p1">‘Poe!’</p><p class="p1">Finn’s voice cuts through the squall. Poe doesn’t turn back, still heading toward the woods. It rends his heart in two, turning his back on Finn. But Finn is swift, and he soon catches up. His hand snags on Poe’s elbow as Poe reaches the trees.</p><p class="p1">‘Poe,’ Finn is panting, dashing water from his eyes. ‘You’re soaked.’</p><p class="p1">Poe swallows, his eyes downcast. Finn turns Poe to face him, hands on his shoulders.</p><p class="p1">‘Please,’ Finn squeezes gently. ’What happened?’</p><p class="p1">His head tilts until Poe cannot avoid meeting his eye. He knows he must look a mess, flushed and distraught. Poe bites his lower lip to stop it trembling.</p><p class="p1">‘You know,’ he quavers, and tears sting fresh over his lashes.</p><p class="p1">Something in Finn’s expression changes: a barely perceptible quality, except by someone who knows him as intimately as Poe does. Perhaps Finn had <em>not </em>known, until this moment.</p><p class="p1">‘The letter,’ Finn murmurs. ‘It’s yours.’</p><p class="p1">‘How can you stand to—?’ Poe hunches his shoulders, nowhere to hide his shame. ‘I have damned us both.’</p><p class="p1">Finn frowns, steering Poe into the shelter of the trees. It provides only a little cover: the rain still smacks against the leaves.</p><p class="p1">‘You have not,’ Finn insists. ‘Not if what you said was true.’</p><p class="p1"><em>‘Finn,’ </em>Poe blinks at him, aghast. ‘Every word of it was true.’</p><p class="p1">‘Then it is true that you are mine,’ Finn lifts a hand to cup Poe’s cheek. ‘That’s what you wrote.’</p><p class="p1">‘But Finn,’ Poe shakes his head, even as it presses him into the warmth of Finn’s hand. ‘The consequences: I could not condemn you to such a fate, no matter how I…’</p><p class="p1">‘How you…?’ Finn prompts.</p><p class="p1">‘How I love you,’ Poe whispers. ‘How I want you.’</p><p class="p1">Finn sighs. His thumb brushes Poe’s skin, catching a tear or a raindrop: the difference doesn’t matter.</p><p class="p1">‘Then it appears I must condemn myself,’ Finn says.</p><p class="p1">He kisses Poe. Finn’s mouth is soft but sure. When Poe whimpers, he presses closer. Poe’s hands come up to cling at Finn’s waist. His lips part, and it’s more than Poe had ever imagined. He feels drunk on the taste of salt and the smell of wet earth, on the heat of Finn’s chest where it pins Poe against the trunk of the tree.</p><p class="p1">The rain falls in sheets around them, as thick as linen and offering as much privacy. However, it is significantly colder: Poe shivers, and not from Finn’s kiss.</p><p class="p1">‘We should go back,’ he says. He cannot hide the fear from his words: in offering a return to the manor, he must also offer the chance to go back to ordinary companionship.</p><p class="p1">‘Hmm,’ Finn kisses Poe’s cheek, seeming reluctant to have his face an inch from Poe’s. ‘I could have the butler draw a bath.’</p><p class="p1">Finn’s tone carries invitation: his smile, pure wickedness.</p><p class="p1">‘That sounds most appealing,’ Poe admits. ‘Though you know we must be careful.’</p><p class="p1">‘I know.’</p><p class="p1">’At least until…’ Poe draws a shaking breath through his nose. ‘Until you marry. Then, even moreso.’</p><p class="p1">‘Marry?’ Finn scowls, finally drawing back.</p><p class="p1">Poe takes his hand, interlacing their fingers. He can have this, before they return up the lawn.</p><p class="p1">‘Think of your prospects,’ Poe murmurs. ‘You ought marry.’</p><p class="p1">‘Poe Dameron,’ Finn looks him in the eye. ‘Have you ever known me to do what I <em>ought?’</em></p><p class="p1">‘It would be a secret,’ Poe warns him. ‘For the rest of our lives, whether we carried on or not.’</p><p class="p1">‘Would it be enough for you?’ Finn asks. His eyes are so sharp, they overturn Poe’s soul.</p><p class="p1">‘Of course,’ Poe does not break Finn’s gaze. ‘Anything would be enough, if it’s with you.’</p><p class="p1">‘Then come home,’ Finn leads him by the hand.</p><p class="p1">Poe has never been able to resist Finn’s wishes. He will not begin today. Finn leads Poe straight to his chambers, calling for a bath to be drawn. Somehow, once the butler has taken his leave, it ends up becoming Poe’s bath, as well.</p><p class="p1">‘I have found that I too am drawn by the allure of a bachelor’s life,’ Finn muses, as he scrubs Poe’s scalp.</p><p class="p1">‘You are?’ Poe tilts his head up, tucking it under Finn’s chin.</p><p class="p1">‘Indeed,’ Finn kisses Poe’s forehead. ‘One bachelor in particular.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&amp;commit=Sort+and+Filter&amp;work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&amp;include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=6452486&amp;work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bquery%5D=&amp;work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&amp;user_id=robotboy">I have lots more finnpoe fic,</a> and lots more Star Wars on my works page &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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